


A Nice, Relaxing Weekend

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 14:12:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11899437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: Even as he’s leaning over her, he whispers, “C’mon, I had this whole plan.  I have an itinerary.”“The words you said were ‘a nice, relaxing weekend,’” she pouts.  “Itineraries are not relaxing, and they’re for old people.”“But the first item on the list is running you a bath, which you’ve been waxing poetic about wanting for, like, a week,” he coaxes just short of her lips.“Where on the list is plowing me until I can’t feel my legs?” she asks sweetly, arching up to kiss him, slow and deep.“Four,” he replies when he breaks away for a breath.





	A Nice, Relaxing Weekend

“Oh,” Wynonna laughs giddily, dropping her bag and looking around the suite.  “This was a _very good_ idea.”  Before the bellhop has even unloaded their luggage, she takes a running leap into the big, plush bed, sighing happily as her feet dangle off the edge, hair a fanned-out mess against the fluffy comforter.  Dolls can’t quite stifle a smile, offering a few bills to the guy who doesn’t really even give them a second look.  After the door’s closed behind him, she sits up, hands planted behind her on the bed, and grins, and he feels drawn to close the distance between them, fill the space between her spread knees.  “You know what would _really_ relax me?” she asks, voice low as she settles back onto her elbows and hooks one ankle around the back of his calve.

Even as he’s leaning over her, he whispers, “C’mon, I had this whole plan.  I have an itinerary.”

“The words you said were ‘a nice, relaxing weekend,’” she pouts.  “Itineraries are not relaxing, and they’re for old people.”

“But the first item on the list is running you a bath, which you’ve been waxing poetic about wanting for, like, a week,” he coaxes just short of her lips.

“Where on the list is plowing me until I can’t feel my legs?” she asks sweetly, arching up to kiss him, slow and deep.

“Four,” he replies when he breaks away for a breath.

Flopping back, she relents and mumbles, “A bath does sound _awesome_ , and the bathtubs here are supposed to be _huge_.”

“That’s why I picked this place,” he says warmly, dipping down for one last, lingering kiss before pushing back to his feet.

“You’re too good to me, boss,” he hears her call after him.  He digs in his suitcase for the bag he’d packed _just for this_ —because, seriously, he’s pretty sure he’s heard her talking in her _sleep_ about a bubble bath—and makes his way into the spacious, warmly-lit bathroom, outfitted with one of the biggest tubs he’s ever seen.

He takes extra care with the temperature, tosses in the bubble bar that turns the water pink and makes it smell sweet and floral.  She must’ve taken off her shoes because he doesn’t hear her approach, but then she sits on the edge of the tub next to where he’s crouched.  Her fingers stroke over his jaw, and he turns into the touch.  When she bends, he lets her tip his chin up and smiles into her lips, his own fingertips still dipped in the water and growing drifts of fluffy bubbles.  Her kisses grow hungry and open as the tub fills, teeth grazing his lips as his free hand slides up her knee, her thigh.  She sighs when he pulls away to turn off the tub.

They stand in the same moment, mouths only inches apart as she unbuttons and unzips her jeans, eyes intent on his.  His fingers ache to touch her, but he stays still, watching her undress slowly, and he’s thinking maybe he could move #4 up a few places when she pulls her top off and lets it fall to the floor.  For a moment, she stands there in front of him, smallest curl of a teasing smile on her lips, before she steps into the tub, hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

As she lowers herself into the bath, she closes her eyes with a soft sigh.  “Okay,” she whispers, lips _barely_ over the bubbles, “Okay, this was a good idea.”

He snorts gently and runs his fingers through her hair before stepping away from the tub.

He’s nearly at the door when he hears her quiet, “Wait.”  The water sloshes and she’s turned, one arm covered in suds hanging over the edge of the tub.  “What’s the point of the world’s biggest bathtub if I’m in it alone?”

With wide, pleading eyes, she sets her chin on the lip of the tub until he sighs and yanks his shirt off.  She licks her lips and gives him a satisfied smile as she scoots backward and looks pointedly at the space in front of her.  He climbs in and lets her tug him into place until his back is to her chest.  Her hands slide over his shoulders, his chest, his belly, then back up as her lips brush his neck, pulling a low rumble out of him.  With a little pressing, she gets him to settle back into her.  He feels her shift and grab one of the wash clothes off the side of the tub, then a bar of soap.  Teeth at his earlobe, she rubs the soft cloth over his chest and abs as her free hand slips lower, fingers feather-light through his pubic hair before they trip back up just over his navel.  The cloth drags over his nipples and his breath catches.  She rubs gently down one arm, taking extra care when she reaches his hand before moving on to the other arm, and he sighs and relaxes into her and lets her touch him wherever she pleases, lets her soap-slippery fingers massage his shoulders and neck before finding their way back to his chest.

At her urging, he twists to press his lips to hers as her fingers slip back down his belly, met by the other they stroke down the V leading to his half-hard cock, and he moans softly into her mouth before turning back around.  Her nails trail over the sensitive skin at the juncture of his hips, teasing until he’s pushing upward, just short of begging her to touch him.  She hums a quiet laugh and wraps her hand around the base of his cock, pumps him slowly until he’s rigid and aching and not quite rolling into every almost lazy pull.

“Ah, fuck,” he groans, louder than he means to and echoing off the tiled walls.

“Think fucking me can move up a couple spots?” she asks playfully, jerking him faster.

“Screw those dinner reservations,” he agrees breathlessly.

She does something around the head of his dick that makes every clear thought tumble out of his head as she says, tone thoughtful, “I can’t believe you’d make dinner reservations when we could just as easily get room service and not get out of bed all weekend.”

“I’m—” he loses track of what he’s saying as her grip tightens, “I’m flexible—it can be arranged.”

She teases him relentlessly, coaxing him to the edge and easing up to keep him there without driving him over.  She holds him there until he’s helpless to do anything but moan and beg, unable to get quite enough leverage to buck up into her grip.  Her low chuckle is maddening, and he _knows_ she could torture him for hours like this.

“Please,” he whines, hands gripping the side of the tub.  “Please, baby, please, I’m so close—”

“Well, since you asked so nice…” she purrs as heat pools in his gut, and this time she doesn’t let up, stroking him hard and fast as his gasps bounce off the walls around them.  The water sloshes in the tub as every part of him goes tense, vision going white with the force of his orgasm, and he hears himself cry out.  His hips jerk as she keeps touching him, slower and gentler but so overwhelming he whimpers something like _please_ or _I can’t_ or _fuck_.

She lets go of him and presses gentle, sweet kisses to his neck, the side of his head, his shoulder.  For a long time, he just lays back into her, letting her pet and kiss him, letting her whisper quiet nonsense into his skin.  “That was… relaxing,” he murmurs, smiling stupidly.

“Hm, that’s interesting, because I’m suddenly a little tense,” she replies, tone quietly playful.

“I can fix that,” he says quickly.

“I was hoping you could,” she laughs, pushing and shifting until she’s straddling his lap and his back is against the tub. 

She leans over him to bite his lower lip, arms resting on either side of his head on the edge, and he can hear the steady _drip, drip, drip_ in the complete silence as his own hands slide up her thighs under the water.  With a quiet, breathless noise, she noses at his jaw as he squeezes her ass, slips up her hips, her sides, pulling her closer with a slosh of water.  He feels her hips roll helplessly against his stomach as he dips his head to bite and suck one nipple, teasing the other with his fingers until she whines impatiently.  Her back arches as she pushes up.  He pops off and kisses his way to the other hard nub, hand smoothing down her back.  Nipping at her collarbone, he can almost feel her gentle mewls as one hand comes down to grip his shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispers into her wet skin.  “You wanna move this party to the bed?”

“You’re such a nerd,” she snorts, pulling back and bending to kiss him quick and rough.  “I’m barely pruned, though.”

“Yeah, but I have zero desire to find out how much bathwater I can take up my nose when I go down on you, so…” he trails off, licking his lips with feigned nonchalance.  He catches the way her eyes go electric and hot and smiles up at her as she stands.  Without pretense of doing anything otherwise, he watches her step over the edge of the tub onto the mat and wrap herself in a fluffy, soft-looking towel.

As she rubs her hair with another towel, she leaves, asking, “You coming, boss?”

He heaves himself up to his feet and dries off before wrapping the towel around his waist and following her into the room where she’s laying comfortably against plush pillows, one knee drawn up.  Her eyes are heavy lidded and expectant and, locked into their steady gaze, he crawls up the bed until he’s able to suck hard kisses to the insides of either thigh.  He feels one her legs extend, foot dragging over his back as she hums luxuriously.  As he moves up her legs, he inches her towel up ever so slowly, taking his time—maybe a _little_ bit to get revenge for earlier.  When he gets to the spot where her thigh meets her hip, he licks a line up to her hip bone, earning a wriggle and frustrated plea.  He holds her hips down, a teasing pressure she could easily escape as he noses up her belly, teeth grazing just below her navel.  Her skin smells sweet, and he breathes her in and kisses back down.

Her fingers splay on the back of his head as he parts the lips of her sex with his tongue.  Her hips jerk, she lets out a muffled moan.  When he looks up, the towel’s gone loose, only just covering her chest, and he pushes it away, alternating between light sucks and long licks.  She rolls up with every movement, letting out high little curses.  He can see her eyes are squeezed shut, watches her tongue dart out to wet her lips.  He pulls back and goes back to kissing the inside of her thigh as his fingers slip-slide against her, biting down as one presses inside and every muscle in her body flexes.  He watches her free hand clutch the pillow as she cries out and tugs his head until he’s back latched onto her clit.

“Holy f—you’re killing me,” she whines when he adds another finger.

“You’re so dramatic,” he mutters, movements slow and easy.  He thinks she might want to respond, but he curls his fingers _just so_ and she lets out a wordless cry.  She arches up, tugs him upward for a messy, hungry kiss.

“I’m being serious,” she says, voice strained and eyes unfocused as he thrusts his fingers in and out of her.  “Dying, congrats, you’ll have killed the heir.”  She smiles into his lips again and drops back with a shaky moan.  “Oh, fuck—fuck, goddamn,” she laughs.

He likes her like this, quaking and cursing and so close to climax she barely even seems to know what she’s saying.  She bucks and grips the sheets, noises growing desperate as he pushes her closer to the edge—he can feel the moment she goes over, whimpering a litany of nonsense and hips jerking, her grip on the back of his head so tight it almost hurts, every muscle tense.  His touches soften as she comes down, still breathing little groans and curses.

“Goddamn,” she gasps, shoving at him, and he pulls back with a lazy grin.  Because he can, because he knows what it does to her, he pops his fingers into his mouth before he climbs up next to her.  “God _damn_ ,” she repeats, twisting onto her side as her lips ghost over his, breath still heavy and quick. 

“Still alive?” he asks playfully.

“No, I’m speaking to you from the other side,” she replies with a giddy, tired giggle.  Her hand skims his side, stops where his towel is still wrapped around his hips.  She bumps her forehead to his temple.  “Spooky, huh?”

“I’ve got goosebumps,” he says, warm and unable to stop touching her.  As he skims up her back, she sighs and stretches against him and kisses his jaw. 

When he draws her knee up over his hip and strokes back up her thigh, she purrs against his skin, “Round two?”

“Well, if we’re gonna miss dinner anyway…”

Shaking her head, she shoves him onto his back and climbs on top of him, flush against him.  “You ever gonna let dinner go?  You can order dinner and strawberries and _chocolate_ and I’ll lick it off of you,” she whispers sweetly, “Which I think the staff frowns on in restaurants, so…”

“Maybe I _like_ getting dressed up and going out like adults,” he mutters.

She pushes up, hands firm on his shoulders, and frowns a little.  “Oh, shit.”  Her brow furrows even as he guides her hips in a slow roll, pressure delicious against his growing erection.  She bends to kiss him gently and mumbles, “I’ll make it up to you—dinner tomorrow?”

“Okay,” he says, helpless to do anything but agree with her when she uses _that_ tone, all syrupy and coaxing.  She stops to tug at his towel, and he lifts up to help her free it so she can rock down against his naked cock, taking in her soft, needy whine as she palms her own breasts.  “Jesus,” he breathes.

Smile a little too sharp, she sits up as one hand travels back down her belly and slip between her legs.  Unable to look away, he watches her touch herself, still grinding down on him.  His hips roll up against hers and she tips her head back with a low noise that might be a sigh.  He sits up, one hand behind him to hold him up, the other pressing into the small of her back as he catches a nipple in his mouth, drawing a whimper out of her.  Her fingers dig into the back of his neck as she lifts up to guide his cock into her, giving a small, breathless moan as she bears down.  He groans into her skin as she rides him, slow and even.  Soon, she shoves him flat on his back and speeds up—he watches with a low curse as his slick cock slips in and out of her.  Leaning over him, she mashes her mouth into his, hums around his tongue as her nails dig into his chest.

He flips her onto her back and grins when she gasps and squeezes his hips with her thighs.  “You mentioned something about plowing?” he teases.

“Like a field that insulted your mother,” she laughs, cutting off with a cry when his hips snap forward, hard.  “Yeah, like that,” she mumbles thoughtlessly, dragging him back down for a hungry kiss as he fucks into her and swallowing his own low moans.  Her hands roam his chest and back and ass.  “You’re so hot, like, are you aware?” she asks against his lips.  “So, so, so— _ah_ —hot, I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up,” he laughs and ducks his head.

“Make me,” she breathes, and when he looks up, her eyes are dark and challenging and his hips jerk forward faster, harder.  She doesn’t quite shut up so much as get _louder_ , but at least she’s not using actual words anymore, every thrust punctuated by a cry that sends a thrill straight through him.

As she bucks up to meet him, he snags her hand and twines their fingers together above her head, lips and teeth at her throat.  He feels how close she is in the way her back arches, the pitch of her voice, the tension in her muscles.  Just when he knows she’s about to go over, he sinks his teeth into the spot where her neck and shoulder meet, drawing a keen out of her as her body goes taut and her hips hitch up into him, and he’s so close that almost sends him over the edge alone. 

What _really_ does it, though, are the gentle whispers of _c’mon baby—c’mon wanna feel you cum so bad, don’t stop, please don’t_ against his ear, her breath hot against his ear.  He groans so loud his throat feels _raw_ with it as he jerks into her, feels distantly the way her legs cling around him and her fingers trail up and down his back.  He settles into her, fingers still wrapped up in hers, until she lets out an exaggerated wheeze and mumbles, “Kinda heavy, boss.”

With a wordless grunt, he rolls off of her and onto his back.  As their breathing evens out, they lay there silently—he’s too sated and sleepy to talk, and she seems content to stroke his thumb with her own.  Before long, she twists into his side and pecks his shoulder, palm flat on his belly. 

“Sorry ‘bout dinner,” she mumbles softly.

“You’ll make it up to me,” he replies, voice thick with sleep clinging right at the edges.

Sitting up a little, she smirks with a mischievous glint in her eyes.  “At least _twice_ before breakfast—and maybe once in the restaurant bathroom tomorrow night,” she promises.

“Jesus, who’s killing who?” he groans.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh, so I got an anon who requested bubble bath and.............................. yeah that happened!
> 
> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> Please feel free to come by my [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) and talk to me about stuff like these nerds and how they're ruining my life!


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